A/N: Warning: in this chapter, there is an explicit account of a hanging. This may disturb some people. This is the last chapter.

The Brotherhood

Chapter Nine

The first snow of winter was usually a great event in Westfall, which did not get that much usually. The fields would become the battlegrounds for giant snowballs fights, and every year on the Winter Solstice, farmer Saldean would set up a mock game of capture the flag, emulating the battle in Warsong Gulch, in which all the children from the surrounding farmsteads would team up and pelt each other with snow until one side captured the flag three times.

This year, however, there were no laughing children in the fields. No farmer Saldean, no snowmen. Just a thick blanket of white obscuring the Westfall earth and a very cold group of Defias on board the zeppelin, nursing cups of tea or cocoa and wearing wooly hats and thick coats.

Amongst these was Conyeri, barely any of her face visible between her dark-blue knitted hat and the perpetual bandana she had to wear. In her gloved hands, a porcelain cup that was half-empty, containing coffee with far too much sugar in. She was leaning on the railings at the front of the zeppelin, her elbows propped up, looking out at the open sky vacantly. The zeppelin's horn sounded after perhaps ten minutes, and she reluctantly left her position, descending down deeper into the ship, where it was still deathly cold. The news that this year's winter would be all the worse due to the Lich King's freezing influence from Northrend had not surprised her.

Barely able to hold her pen, she began the small test that Marzy had set them- lessons did not end even if Stormwind was about to be invaded. The rest of the group of trainees eyed her with suspicion, loathing, and most scarily, fear. Nobody knew what had happened to her when she'd escaped, so naturally, everybody had heard, and they didn't treat her any better for it.

Her only reprieve was going to see Geylan and the rest of her friends after classes had finished. Rebecca had been a problem though. She wasn't a Defias, she was an Alterac noble, and the fact that she was missing was not going to be kept quiet. Conyeri had told Rebecca that it would be better if she went home, but she vehemently refused, saying that she couldn't now, not when all of this was happening. She missed her mother, she missed Cefflan, but they were safer up there. Safe, away from the impending destruction of Stormwind.

"Time's up." Marzy said and she dropped her freezing pen from her freezing hands, sitting back on her freezing chair and watching the rest of the freezing students do exactly the same. She'd already forgotten what the test was about. Marzy lingered by her desk, looking down at her with a pity she neither wanted nor felt she deserved. After they were done, there was something to do with throwing knives that they were to practice. Cony, on auto-pilot, held the freezing metal in her freezing fingers and wondered if she had ever been this cold in her entire life, not just in body, but in mind. It was as though the time she wasn't in the company of Geylan or the rest of them, she was cryogenically frozen, unable to do anything with enthusiasm.

And it will only get worse. Conyeri DeHayersae, you test my patience.

The fragment, hearing her thoughts, was speaking to her again, its anger palpable, as it had been over the last week and a half, practically bursting with impatience. It had not waited thousands of years, to only have a tiny amount of worgen leaked into the recesses of Azeroth, and now it was in the body of someone who was able to perform a mass summoning, it wasn't allowed to. Conyeri wouldn't until she had to, and then she'd do it without Marisa's intervention. She was not going to let the woman have any more control over her than she could help.

A throwing knife slipped from her hand the wrong way and flew to her right, where Harrman was retrieving a couple of his own. She thought back to the first lesson they'd had, when Marzy had thrown on into his leg for his stupidity. Now, though, he was faster, noticing the projectile and moving out of the way, letting it hit the wooden paneling with a soft thunk. He smiled meekly at her and pulled it out sliding it across the floor to her feet. She took it thankfully with fumbling hands.

"No stalling," Marzy cuffed her over the head, knocking her hat off. Cold air rushed into her ears and she apologized, picking it up and jamming to on again. She returned to her throwing dully, hitting her target nearly perfectly each time.

The time passed and her arms grew tired, and soon the horn rang out again and the trainees put their boots back on and left Marzy's classroom, shivering. By now, friendship groups had been established and nobody talked to Cony. Harrman stayed a distance away from her, not trusting himself around the unstable person she was.

Conyeri sighed. In a week, she had collapsed, cried, thrown up, jerked involuntarily whenever she was trying to talk properly and tried to push Rebecca off the side of the zeppelin. It was living hell.

Perhaps not, she thought, as she wound her way down to the refectory, where she sat at the designated table that their little group sat at, reveling in the warmth of the near kitchens. Most Defias ended up down here, talking, reading books, drinking not liquid. It was surreal.

"Cony," Geylan greeted her, pushing a plate of supper he had fetched for her in front of her as she sat down. There was wariness, though, it the way he did it, that took into account her new problems, of which there were many. "How were lessons?"

"Cold and boring," she sighed and stabbed her fork into a piece of steak. "Geylan… My life sucks."

"Maybe, but after the invasion, it'll all be over."

"No, it won't. The…" she lowered her voice. "The fragment isn't just going to jog on once I've summoned a couple thousand worgen. There could be millions of them waiting to come through… to destroy the entire world."

"That sounds rather apocalyptic…" Rebecca put her tray down next to Cony's. She alone was not afraid to sit next to her, to touch her. She was still in the mindset that she was Connor, the stablehand, despite all she'd seen that showed otherwise. A part of her wanted to stop her, because it was dangerous, but mostly she was just bloody grateful that someone would go within a metre of her.

"How was your day of sitting in a dark room pretending not to exist?" Conyeri asked dryly.

"Interesting, actually. Marisa gave me some books to read about magic."

"What? Marisa hates you."

"Well, she didn't actually give me the books, so to speak…" Rebecca fidgeted nervously.

"You stole them from her room!" Conyeri realized, eyes wide. "Becca, you're dead."

"She'll never notice, she's insane and there's hundreds of them in there…"

Conyeri looked at her with abandon and just took another big mouthful of steak, soothing her nerves with hot food. She made a mental note to knit Cookie something for the solstice, if she ever got the time, or if the fragment let her sit still long enough to. At that thought, she turned her head to the side as though she had been slapped, causing Rebecca to jerk around. Painfully, she brought it back to the centre, gripping the table with her gloved hands.

"Sorry." She said. "Involuntary."

"I know," Rebecca smiled and took a drink. "Your life sucks, Connor."

"Nice to know." She said sarcastically, but she knew it was Rebecca's way of saying that she was okay with everything, which was certainly a difficult thing to do after being a noble, spoilt mage for most of her life.

"I miss Cefflan. He'd love all of this."

"Eh?"

"Not the killing and the being evil and all that… the community. In the mage tower, it's more of a solitary thing, and I reckon he yearns for friends to have a good kick-around, like a normal boy would."

"I still think you should be going home," Cony told her, much to her chagrin. "Don't look at me like that, I have only your wellbeing in mind."

"Cute, but unnecessary," she insisted. "Seriously, Connor… I don't agree with what you're all about to do, but, as I am selfish and spoilt, I'd rather be up here out of harms way than down there."

"Sensible," Geylan remarked. Cony glared at him and decided not to pursue it, knowing she would lose. Once the food was finished, she left the tray by the washing-up hatch and pulled her coat over her tighter, anticipating the biting wind outside. When she did, however, reemerge, she found that it was snowing lightly. Behind her, Rebecca giggled like the child she was and started to bend down in order to make a snowball, which Geylan hastily stopped.

"Rebecca… we're not here for snowball fights and fun. I know you want to, but you can't. It's all very… dour, at the moment."

"Oh." She let the snow fall from her hands. "Sorry."

"I'm going to go inside." Cony said, thinking of her cold room, and then thinking better of it. "Screw that, I'm going back down there."

"No, you're not," Geylan's hand caught her shoulder as she turned. "Cony, we have more important things to do than mope down there."

"Like what?" she asked icily. "Talk more about my problems? Or we could sit and talk awkwardly with Dez and Harrman, perhaps?"

"Cony…" his face softened. "No, no, nothing like that… I think we should be thinking about what to do during and after the invasion."

"Let's talk now, Geylan. During the invasion, I'll release a shitload of worgen to Stormwind. They'll kill everyone. Then, afterwards, I'll become a human worgen-portal, living out my life doing what Marisa says." Tears began streaking down her cheeks and she wiped them away, not wanting to have another breakdown in front of either of them. "No need to discuss it."

"That's not what will happen!" Rebecca said angrily, her breath misting in front of her and obscuring her face. "Marisa can't invoke that right of possession if you're separated by a power larger than she is, I read it."

"So that was why you stole her books." Geylan said under his breath, but everyone heard it anyway. "But what power is larger than Marisa?"

"I looked."

"Did you find anything?"

Rebecca hesitated. "Well, you either need to be claimed by a more powerful mage, or separated by a barrier, of sorts, more powerful than Marisa could break. Some example of these kinds of barriers…" she gulped. "The barrier between life and death… or the one between Azeroth and Outland… but that would only work if the Dark Portal was closed."

"So…" Conyeri worked it out. "We'd have to kill her."

"Yes."

"How? None of us are powerful enough to actually harm her." Cony's mind whirred. "Maybe if she was magically incapacitated?"

"But how would we get rid of her magic?" Geylan asked, and Cony and Rebecca exchanged looks. "What do you two know that I don't?"

"How to suck someone's magic out of them."

"Then why don't you do it?" He asked, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I could… I could do it the black way, if I had the spell…" Rebecca said uncertainly. "But she would probably notice and stop me straight away, and the legal way… well, she wouldn't do it with me, for sure."

"Why? You're up her alley- female, young and innocent. Dark hair, that's a plus too." Conyeri almost smiled. "I know. She's fixated."

"Can you use magic, though? I saw you do it to Nightly, but that was a really small trick."

"I can… I can try, at least. If you teach me." Rebecca reddened. "Teach me the spell, Becca. Honestly, one-track mind."

"Of course. Spell. Right you are… I'll have to find it, first."

"I'm being left out of the loop," Geylan accused them. Conyeri looked at him, her cheeks reddening despite the cold. "You can tell me, whatever it is."

"Geylan… don't get mad, okay?"

"…I don't want to hear this, do I?"

"No, but… it may be our only chance to break Marisa's hold on Connor." Rebacca said, her arms snaking around Conyeri's, clinging to her in a possessive way, but also a little out of the cold. They were still standing on the deck.

"Tell me."

"To… drain someone of magical power, you can either do it with black magic, against someone's will, or… they can sort of give it to you in subtext. During sex… then you can take it easiest."

Geylan's pace paled then reddened with anger. "No! You're not going to have to do that again! I won't let Marisa-"

"If you don't let me do this, you let her own me forever."

He stopped and stared into her eyes, his blue ones holding a deep hurt. He really didn't want her to have to do this. He was concerned. "Is that your only option?"

"Unless you can gather a small army of Defias who will attack her even though she is their direct superior, then yes."

He sighed. "So what will you do once you've drained her?"

"I'll… I'll need you and Rebecca. Would you attack her?"

"For you."

"Then you'll need to jump out of the shadows and help me kill her, manually." She kept her voice low in case anyone was listening. "I think perhaps during… sex, she'll not notice if you creep in. Your best stealth. And Rebecca will need to seal the door. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Then… gods, I don't want to do this." She sucked in a jarringly cold breath to steady herself as the fragment propelled the feeling of glee into her. It wanted her to kill Marisa, because it wanted her to continue on her evil path and summon the worgen, but it also was unsure if she'd summon the worgen without Marisa's control. The glee dampened as was replaced by anticipation. Either way, it would eventually have its wish. "Right… I'll… do it after the worgen go into Stormwind. I'll pretend I paid attention to what she told me, that I'm… like her."

"You're not." They both said at once, two sets of loving eyes soothing her. Geylan spoke first.

"I told you that you weren't straight after, Cony, and I meant it. I know you."

"Agreed."

"Thanks, you two…" Cony let herself be hugged from both angles. "Soon enough, we'll all get out of here. Without the Defias to chase us and Stormwind to persecute us, we'll go somewhere and live happily. Me, you two, Dez, Harrman, maybe Jack and Alt… and even Isobella, if she wants."

"Happy families." Rebecca giggled. "Who are the mum and dad, though?"

"Dez and Harrman." Geylan joined in, a smile lighting up his face. They knew what Conyeri was going to do and they knew they couldn't stop it. "And… Alt can be the grandfather… Isobella the grandmother. We'll be the kids and Jack can be the dog."

"Marisa can be the scarecrow."

"Very scary indeed."

They laughed and talked out there, in the biting cold.

-

The Defias were not people for ceremony, so when the time came for the zeppelin to cut her tethers, just shy of new year, there was no rallying speech or great party. Just anticipation of revenge and vindication, on the people of the Alliance who had so spurned them.

Conyeri was at the very front, standing next to Marisa, who was flagging Alt and another metal-man who was flicking through April's issue of The Ashenvale Post, for some reason. The goblin transporter was working, whirring and smoking a little, its sister smack-bang in the middle of Stormwind, in the centre of Old Town, where Dash was waiting for them. As a ripple of readiness passed over the assembled Defias, Cony chanced a look at Geylan and Harrman, who stood with the 'sneakies', or so the thugs called those who operated as assassins. Dez was easily visible for his ridiculous shock-pink bobble hat and his thick, gleaming mail armour. Rebecca was hiding somewhere.

"Right. Let's be off, then." The metal-man closed and rolled up the Post and tucked it into a pocket sewed into his hip. He turned to the assembled. "Kill anything not wearing a bandana."

And with that, they were off. Marisa took her wrist and they were the first through, the feeling of being turned inside out worse than a couple of weeks ago. They opened their eyes to find themselves in Old Town, as promised, with a few rag-tag thugs standing around them.

"Lass!" Dash sounded confused. "What ye be… oh." He realized that she was the fragment's host. "Where is Conyeri, Marisa? What did ye do with 'er?"

"She's right here, Dashel. Just a little different than you remember."

"Ye son of a-"

"Language." She smiled, showing her brilliant teeth. Conyeri felt the fragment within her swelling, like a heartbeat quickening with excitement. It was here she had to be horrible. Here she had to be the person Marisa said she was, to save the rest of her life.

"Dash." She greeted him. "Nice to see you again."

"Oh, Conyeri, ye look…"

She grinned at him, doing her best to look nasty. Disturbingly, it came naturally. "Better, I know. I made better choices, Dash."

He looked as though he was about to cry. "If that's what ye want, lass… if that's who ye are."

"It is." She turned to Marisa, who was amused. "Do I… start now?"

"Yes… no right of possession?"

"No, I can do it myself." She said huffily. Marisa raised her eyebrows and leant back against the transporter. "Right…"

Finally.

She let the fragment do what it wanted, feeling instantly torn away from reality. She straddled the line between the world that the worgen came from and Azeroth, nauseous, alone. The worgen's world was barren and gloomy, the sky dark and the ground rough. Howls in the night came from all around her, and soon worgen of all kinds were drawn to her, amassing, scrambling over each other. They found her and passed straight through, each taking a little of her energy, each loosening her mind. It wasn't painful, just… unnatural. She squirmed in Azeroth, feeling someone take her hand. The worgen's world faded a little and she was struck with the image of both places meshed together, a parody of her home world, burning, drear… and still the worgen came, bloodthirsty and elated, having escaped their eternal hell.

Her vision darkened and her usually excellent senses dulled, and she felt herself panting. If she continued, she knew she'd die. What a reprieve it would be, to die now, to detach herself from everything and escape the horrible fate she'd made for herself. Then, she thought of Rebecca and Geylan, who had looked at her just a couple of days before, their eyes full of love and care. She couldn't let herself be swept away. Painfully, she ripped herself from the worgen world, tumbling to the ground in Azeroth, utterly spent.

When she had her wits enough about her, she heard the screaming. The pitter-patter of boots, the thump of worgen feet, the smell of blood and fear, hot on the heavy air.

"Conyeri," A soft voice soothed her frayed nerves, taking her under the arms and dragging her into the shade. "Conyeri, can you hear me?" She mumbled something, concentrating on breathing. "Conyeri, it's Isobella."

Isobella? Why was she here? Why was she even helping? The cold, glass rim of a flask touched her lips and she drank gratefully, the slightly bitter potion marvelously warm on her freezing limbs. Disappointed that it had finished, she let Isobella remove the flask and prop her up. She mourned at how weak she was, seeming always relying on other people.

"Was it okay? I've never made a major potion like that before…"

"Y-yeh…" she opened her eyes, pupils dilating at the low light. It was already evening. "Why...?"

"You killed Nightly. Thank you."

"What?"

"He- I used to think of him as a big brother, as you know… but after a while, he stopped being nice to me when not in public. He wanted me for other things… sort of like you and Miss Du'Paige."

"Oh." Poor girl. Being female seemed to invariably get you fucked (Conyeri, Isobella) or fucked-up (Marisa). "Thanks."

"No problem… I rarely get a chance to test my potions anyway."

"You like healing, don't you?" she realized, thinking back to their first camp, when she had looked at peace tending to Jack. "But you're being made to be a rogue…"

She nodded sadly and white light covered her hands. "The more lessons I have, the less I can do it."

"Then become a healer. Nobody will stop you. Got steal books from the cathedral."

"I might, but at the moment I'm acting as a field medic."

"Good on you." Conyeri stood herself up and found her weakness had faded. "That was a good potion. Thank you, again."

She nodded and hefted a bag onto her shoulder, which Conyeri presumed held medical supplies. It looked heavy, but she carried it with pride. They left the small square in central Old Town together then parted ways, and Conyeri saw the full extent of the havoc wreaked of Stormwind, but this was not where the main fighting was going on. She jogged steadily through Old Town and up to Stormwind Keep, passing dead guards and deader worgen and Defias on the way. It was bloody carnage.

The whole keep was roaring with battle, the snarling of worgen and the shouts of humans causing a din, added to by the clash of blades. Conyeri snuck in, stealthed, heading along the main corridor. She'd never been in here before, so she followed her intuition. As she crested the inclining walkway, she saw a scene that was odd, because it was quiet and still, unlike the carnage around her.

A man she instinctively knew was King Varian Wrynn stood, facing the metal-man who had been reading the Post earlier. They regarded each other levelly. Then, in a blur of movement, they were together, swords clashing, beginning a deadly dance of metal. They ducked and parried, jumped and sidestepped, both masters of their craft. Conyeri would have watched with all her attention, but a young dwarf spotted her, a lumbering bear at his side, and long gashes down his face but a snarl underneath his beard. She wove around the bear, blinding it and rolling to thrust upwards at the hunter, who hastily blocked it with his bow. The wood snapped under the force of her dagger, leaving her to boot him in the face. Remorseless, she severed his thick, muscled neck, which took a bit of hacking, then put the thrashing bear down swiftly.

Next, she moved onto a Stormwind guard, who was just recovering from decimating a worgen, nursing a severed hand. Taking advantage of that, she disarmed him with the very same move Geylan had taught her and, being cheap as she was, kneed him in the privates. He went down and she finished him off, feeling adrenaline pumping through her veins. She wasn't trained, but she had the fragment on her side. She felt stronger, faster, and almost indestructible. The fragment didn't want its host to die, and so went to every effort to keep her alive.

She turned back to where the king and the metal-man were fighting. The metal-man was losing, but only by a bit, being forced further back towards the wall. Varian was insanely skilled, wielding his weapons like extensions of his arms. He was completely absorbed. Malice struck her and she stealthed, maneuvering behind him and waiting for the metal-man to force him back enough for her to perform a backstab. She was stopped when two worgen, rushing at two elves behind her, knocked her to the ground and broke her stealth. Cursing, she jumped up, but she had been seen. Deciding that this was not the place to be, she dashed out of the keep, until she saw the blue roves of the trade district that she remembered.

She was stopped only once along the way by a Defias, his armour bloody. He asked her if she had seen VanCleef. She sad no, and realized she'd never actually met the man. The trade district, compared to the keep, was well organized, a tide of worgen and Defias meeting Stormwind guards and occupants, formed into an arrowhead formation. She noticed that it was because Marisa was here, directing the forces. She slipped around the back, looking for the Gilded Rose. It was where she would go to wait for herself if she was Geylan.

The main door was barricaded, so she worked her way into the stables, up to the loft and through the small window into the lounge. Inside sat most of the maidstaff, a good number of gossiping girls and Darron, speaking to Allison in a hushed voice, holding a broadsword. They all screamed when she dropped in.

"Geylan's not here." She said, disappointed.

"Connor?"

"Hey!" she greeted them all, pulling the bandana to her neck. She couldn't take it off, but she could move it. "Miss me?"

Darron, the quickest over the initial shock, saw the bandana and rushed, sword raised. He was even less trained than she was, his strokes slow and clumsy. She backhanded him and let him remain unconscious, looking away, not trusting herself – or the fragment- to hold back. She started to walk out, thinking where she could find Geylan, when someone else dropped from he stable loft window.

"Becca?" she groaned, but stopped when a fireball narrowly missed her right ear. "What are you doing?"

"Behind you." She gestured to a rat of a man, brandishing a dagger that was more accurately described as a letter opener. "He's been following you since the keep. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

"I was pre-occupied." She helped her down from on top of the mantlepiece. "You were supposed to stay on the zeppelin."

"I wasn't allowed. They went through all of the rooms and chucked me down here."

"Ouch." Conyeri rubbed her ear, which was lightly scalded. "Do you know where Geylan is?"

"He's back aboard. Connor, you're losing. Stormwind is beating the worgen."

"Then I have to summon more? I can't do it again- I almost died the first time." She grimaced at the memory. "We need to get to the keep, I think."

"I agree." She looked back at the staff of the Gilded Rose. "You make very nice chocolate butterbuns, by the way."

Conyeri kicked down the barricade from the inside and led Rebecca out, leaving the stunned maidstaff inside.

"So we need to run, back to the transporter."

"Can't, it was destroyed."

"Then find someone's hearthstone."

"We just need to get to the keep. There's a stash of them in the library with Lord Lescovar." Rebecca stated knowledgably. "Sorry, I stole the papers while you lot were already down here."

They ran to the keep, this time not so easily. There were more guards than worgen, now, and more than once Conyeri had to pull them into alleys to avoid being attacked.

Summon more, you fool!

The fragment was not happy, but she told it she was not physically able to. They reached the keep and slipped past the amassing citizens, but Cony didn't know where the library was, and nor did Rebecca. They ended up missing the right corridor altogether and ending up in the main throne room, where Varian and the metal-man were still fighting, though now the metal-man had a bigger advantage.

As they watched, P-P materialized behind the metal-man, sword in hand, and plunged it straight into his back. Why the hell was he doing that? He was on their side! Or not…

"Triple agent!" She shouted at him, forgetting secrecy as rage rose within her. P-P shrugged.

"They offered me a better deal."

"Scum!"

From nowhere came seven or eight guards, who grabbed Cony and Rebecca's arms and crushed them behind them, holding them still. They were all human, and the shard panicked, thinking it was about to be destroyed. They dragged the two of them out of the keep, through the streets, Conyeri struggling and Rebecca crying. People were re-emerging from their houses and Defias were panicking, some reaching for their hearthstones and others simply committing suicide. Cony admired their strength.

There was no trial- one wasn't needed, and quicker than they could perceive, a cell door was being closed on them.

The Stockade.

It had been the first port of call for the invading Defias, who had freed all the occupants, but now it was back under Stormwind's control and rapidly filling with Defias that hadn't been killed or just attacked on the spot my more vindictive guards. Conyeri's weapon had been taken, and she and Rebecca were in their own cell- for a while, at least. Along came Marisa, with the metal-man who had been stabbed, who hobbled painfully. Lastly, a man she didn't recognize, who had long, scraggly hair and pale skin, who looked like he'd already been down here for years.

"Well, that was successful." Marisa kicked a stone and struggled with the cuffs they'd put her in, which stopped her using magic.

"It would have been had Patrick not been working for them." The metal-man said calmly. "He took out the transporter early on and systematically murdered a great number of Defias- ouch." He winced and he sat down, his wound bleeding. "Though not particularly useful to us, I commend him for carrying his deception out so successfully."

"Not the right thing to say right now, Edwin." The pale man said. Then she realized- the metal-man was Edwin VanCleef, the leader of the Defias, who had been killed once and brought back by the goblins. She was slightly awed, but felt very out of place amongst the Defias kingpins. "Who are these two?"

"Conyeri DeHayersae, our worgen provider, and her plus-one." Marisa introduced them. "She got put with us because she's wearing a mageweave bandana."

"Why is she?"

"I gave it to her so I could enact the right of magical possession." Marisa explained. "The other one happened to be with her, so I guess they lumped them together. Damn, I wish we could get two cells down. There's an exit."

"Not anymore." VanCleef said. "They caved them all in. The stockade is no longer ours, unfortunately."

"Shit." She swore and looked around grumpily. "So we're not getting out."

"Rebecca can make a portal, they didn't cuff her." Conyeri realized. "Can you?"

Rebecca was silent for a moment. "In perhaps a day, when I have enough mana… I did quite a few spells today."

"Good, then. Tomorrow, when the baby mage has mana, we can get out of here. I set her portals to default to the zeppelin last time she cast one."

The relief in the room increased. "For the moment, we wait, then, and sleep." VanCleef said reasonably. Rebecca and Cony huddled together.

"Gods, I'm so sorry, Becca." Conyeri said, trying to get comfy on the hard stone floor. "I royally messed up everything."

"Don't. We'll be out of here tomorrow, and then we'll see Geylan again. And maybe Dez and Harrman."

"That's optimistic at best. Your portal might not work this time, or…"

Rebecca silenced her with a light kiss. "Connor, Conyeri, whatever…" she stared into her eyes. "I just want to tell you, if what you're thinking about really does happen, if we don't get out of this… that I'm honoured to be here with you."

"No, Becca, no! Not now!" she started crying. "I don't know what I want! I don't even know if I'll wake up tomorrow morning! I don't know what I feel for you, or Geylan… now isn't the time for this…"

"It is the only time, Connor. I may never speak to you again."

"I thought you were an optimist."

"Now I'm being a realist. We either get out or we don't, but I wanted you to know that."'

"I didn't want to know it," she said honestly. "Why couldn't you not say it, just for one night… gods." He started properly crying, hiccupping. Rebecca took her hand in her own, shaky one.

"Whatever you choose. It's your choice."

They fell asleep.

-

Cefflan didn't like portals- they made him nauseous, but he had to take one this time. It was for his sister, who was in Stormwind. His mother wouldn't tell him why, after not using her magic for several years, she would go so far as to make a portal, but he felt her sense of urgency and complied, even though it was very early morning and not even light yet.

They came into the mage tower and descended, lady Ashcroft gripping Cefflan's hand like she hadn't in five years. It embarrassed him. His mother was pale; she hadn't even brushed her hair or fixed her dress properly, so he knew something must be wrong. Stormwind was hideously cold, and his teeth chattered as they walked along the streets. He couldn't quite understand what had gone on, but something had changed. It was then that he saw it- the canals were full of bodies. Worgen and humans and elves and dwarves, all of them, rotting in the water, being dredged out by teams of guards.

Stormwind had just faced an invasion. A swiftly quelled invasion, but at a great cost. Houses were boarded and blood was being scrubbed off the streets, all the occupants in a state of shock. His mother took him around the corner of the mage quarter and he recognized the Stockade, a place he and Rebecca had often passed when going to the Trade district to buy themselves trinkets in the seasonal markets. They were headed there now.

"I demand to see her!" Lady Ashcroft said as soon as they entered the giant building, filled with surly guards.

"What're you on about, lady?" the warden asked, a group of guards moving to block the entrance.

"Rebecca Ashcroft, my daughter! Why is she here? I got the message this evening from the high mage himself!"

"I dunno one from the other, Mrs Ashcroft. If she's down here, it's 'cause she's with them."

"My daughter is not part of the Defias Brotherhood!" Lady Ashcroft spat at him, wilder than Cefflan had ever seen her. She calmed down. "Please. Just to talk to her."

"Well…" he looked around. "A small donation."

"Done." She tossed a bag full of gold at him. He nodded and the guards parted, four of them escorting her down into the newly-Stormwind controlled stockade. They wound deep inside, coming to a large cell holding five persons. They were all asleep.

"Becca!" Cefflan saw his sister and couldn't stop himself, rushing to the bars. "Becca!"

She stirred and opened an eye, the girl next to her doing the same. To his horror, she had a red bandana loosely around her neck and was wearing dark, frayed clothes. She wiped her eyes and looked at him.

"Ceff?" she rose and walked up to the bars. The guards stuck with swords through, preventing her from touching him. "Ceff, what're you doing down… oh." She looked up and saw her mother.

The other girl came up behind her and Cefflan recognized her- it was Connor. Lady Ashcroft gasped as his- her- face came into view. "What is going on?"

"Family visit." She said dryly. "Mother, Ceff, this is Conyeri."

"Connor." Lady Ashcroft looked murderous. "You! You were such a gentleman, you, you, stole my daughter away! I'll kill you!"

The guards told her she couldn't. By now, the rest of the cell's occupants had been woken up. "Becca, what happened?"

"It's quite a long story, involving night elf goddesses and worgen and zeppelins…" she sighed and looked a Cefflan. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen, but it did. I had to leave to protect you both. Actually, to protect you from this young woman here."

Marisa gave a comically cheery wave. "I did thinking of destroying your manor and torturing your family, but the scythe would have none of it. It was Conyeri or bust."

"Becca," Cefflan didn't understand. "Why are you in here?"

"I…" she sighed. "I did some bad things, Ceff."

"But you're not a bad person." He looked at Conyeri. "Nor is Connor. Connor is fun and kind."

"Good people do bad things sometimes." Behind Rebecca, VanCleef and Marisa were watching the visit with amusement. Neither had family to visit them.

"When are you released?" Lady Ashcroft demanded. "How can I get you released?"

The warden, who had caught up with them, answered the question. "Really, she's not actually meant to be in the high-priority cell. She was just with the wrong person at the time of capture and was put in there. Most of the minor Defias face life imprisonment down here… though it could be significantly shortened."

"Thelwater is as crooked as Edwin's nose." The unhealthy looking man with them explained. "Ain't that right?"

"Shut it, Thredd. Come sunrise, you're finally a dead man."

He shut up.

"How much for her immediate release?" Lady Ashcroft asked, anxious to get Rebecca out, regardless of what she'd done or not done, which she hadn't exactly asked yet.

"Ten thousand gold."

"Done."

"What?" Warden Thelwater's jaw dropped. "I was joking."

"I have ten thousand gold to give. It's not doing anything sitting in our family coffers." She looked at Rebecca. "I'd sell everything I owned for my daughter's life."

"Alright, then…" Thelwater said, still surprised. Lady Ashcroft formed a small portal, as quick as a snap of her fingers, and reached into it. From it, she pulled two massive calico sacks filled to the brim with gold coins.

"Each bag is two-thousand." She explained, looking into the portal and pulling three more out. "That's ten thousand."

The warden, eyes bugged looking at his riches, told the guards to let Rebecca out. They carefully opened the bars and pulled her out, slamming them shut immediately. Conyeri came up to the front and Lady Ashcroft sneered at her. "How much to kill her, here and now?"

"Can't. I'm afraid. She's to be executed with the other three at sunrise. You can buy a front row seat, though."

"Rest assured I will." She said nastily, gripping Rebecca's arm. She tore the bandana off her daughter and charmed her hands behind her back. "You're going to tell me everything in good time, Becca, and I will never trust you again. Ever. No more magic. No more friends."

She led her off, and Rebecca cast a sad glace back at Conyeri who had to watch her leave for much longer than she would have liked due to her enhanced sight. "We're buggered, then." Marisa said. "No baby mage, no portal. Sunrise is on its way. Fuck. Fuck this!" She tacked Conyeri to the ground and growled at her. "Your fault."

"Marisa, don't be childish. It is nobody's fault but our own." VanCleef pulled her off, where she managed to spit at Conyeri before toppling over backwards due to still being cuffed.

As dawn approached, Conyeri began to realize that she was about to die. Not a doubt or a pessimistic musing, but a certainty. Her mouth went dry as she lay on the floor, her stomach roiling. The fragment was strangely silent, considering that its host was about to die. It unnerved her, she was almost becoming used to its constant annoying chatter.

Warden Thelwater came back about three hours after Rebecca had left with an entire squad of guards. Conyeri didn't struggle as they tied her hands behind her back with thick metal cuffs. The four of them, Conyeri, Marisa, VanCleef and Thredd were led out of the Stockade. Surprisingly, all the Defias in the cells saluted as they passed by. When she came closer to the entrance, where the less dangerous Defias were kept, she saw Harrman. He looked at her sadly and Conyeri managed to brush her hand against his as they passed.

They came out into the daylight to fewer jeers that Conyeri had expected. Warden Thelwater nastily told them that most of the crowd was waiting at the newly erected gallows in the centre of the Trade District. They arrived there and were lined up on the gallows. It was a small structure, a raised wooden platform with four crates underneath four nooses. Conyeri was at least a head shorter than the rest of them, so they had to lower her noose. As the cold rope was placed around her neck and tightened, Conyeri's heart beat faster and faster.

Lady Ashcroft was at the front of the crowd, Rebecca bound next to her, smiling. She also saw Darron and Allison by the entrance to the Gilded Rose.

"These four vagrants have been identified as the leaders of the Defias Brotherhood, which conspired to take down Stormwind itself by entering a pact with the vicious worgen." Read a man Conyeri did not recognize as his head was obscured by an executioner's hood. "They are to be put to death by slow hanging before the citizen of Stormwind they conspired against. You are not permitted to hasten their deaths."

The crowd cheered. Everyone liked a good slow hanging.

The executioner turned for the crowd and looked at the four of them. Conyeri, being furthest away from him, was last to have her box pushed from underneath her. He did it slowly, as to ensure they didn't drop too suddenly, and as the wood left her feet, she found herself dangling. Her throat was constricted, yes, but she could still breathe.

It was useless, though, she knew. She'd once seen a Defias being hanged at Sentinel Hill- they died in the end. As she struggled to breathe, her thoughts became clouded. The rope seemed to constrict around her neck, the floor of the gallows getting deceptively nearer. It was she who began breathing heavily first, panicking as her neck strained and her airway couldn't ferry the necessary oxygen to her heart. A drummer began a drum roll and the crowd started chatting excitedly. Bets were being made as to who would go first.

Conyeri looked at Marisa, who was to her right. She was silent save for the having breaths she took, her face paler than even usual.

-

The scariest thing was when she had got the hang of stealth to a degree, she decided to try and blot herself out to touch. At first, it was as if she were submerged in a very cold bath, then an icy ocean and finally frozen in a block of ice. Every move, every twitch, became a mammoth achievement, but she found that she could place the tips of her fingers through the desk. She was careful not to let Marzon see her experimentation, and stopped shortly after, confused at this new ability.

-

Conyeri remembered what she had done in Marzy's classroom. She wondered… was it possible? What would she do, anyway? She'd just be caught. What if… what if she phased through everything, including the floor? Into Stormwind sewers?

Hope came to her, but was quickly swallowed as blackness leaked into the sides of her vision and she found she couldn't breathe anymore.

Wildly, plan forgotten, she thrashed, gurgling. The crowd laughed at her, knowing she was near her end. She couldn't see anything. She couldn't think anything. She was dead, properly, with no Lich King's plague to resurrect her wrongly, with no Eva to save her, no worgen to snuggle with her.

With a horrible crack, the beam on top of the gallows split clean in two and she was abruptly let free, falling onto the foundation, buts she couldn't be happy. Her body was already shutting down. The roar of the crowd was just a buzz in her ears. She thought that perhaps VanCleef, as a metal-man, was heavier than they'd thought, but couldn't hold onto the thought train long enough.

Oddly, she felt rather cold. Sluggish and cramped, claustrophobic, even. She tried to look around, but everything was black.

With a great thump and a splash, she landed in the Stormwind sewers.

Thank me later, when you will summon more worgen.

Conyeri tried to groan, but her throat was too traumatized to let out a sound. She wanted to fall asleep, but kept breathing deeply, thankful eternally for everything. It must be fate, she thought, that the beam would snap. That she'd remember her little experiment and the fragment would amplify her power. How were the others faring? They could not do what she did. Perhaps Marisa's cuffs had broken and she had made a portal. Perhaps VanCleef had been wearing rocket boots or something. She did not know and did not want to linger on the thought.

As far as I'm concerned, Marisa's dead, she thought. She didn't feel relieved, as she had thought she would, just a little bad about herself.

Deciding not to rot in the stagnant sewer water, Conyeri hauled herself up onto the small pavement, surprised to find herself feeling reasonable okay. As the oxygen got back into her system, she felt stronger, better, and walked along the sewer. Being predictable, she took the left path, which ended up at a crossroads that had a ladder and a manhole. She climbed it and gingerly peeked through. She saw boots and dropped back into the water immediately, cursing herself. Her bearings were completely off, she didn't know north from south or east from west, so she continued left, thinking that it must end eventually.

The sewers didn't- well, the water and the waste did, but the tunnels continued, and as she walked down them, Conyeri felt a prickle of familiarity. She had to stop to rest twice, and she supposed that she'd been walking all day. She was hungry and tired, but the further she traveled, the more the feeling that she'd been here before tickled the back of her mind.

"Gods," she murmured as she came to a small boundary-marker. "Westfall."

Though her voice was hoarse and her neck hurt her like nothing else she'd ever experienced, Conyeri was happy. She had found her way into Westfall, where she should be able to find Camp RUTN. Hope came flooding through her. Everything would be fine… Geylan was on the zeppelin, Harrman, as only a minor Defias, wouldn't be killed… Dez must be somewhere. Rebecca was alive.

-

Rebecca looked at the panic in mild awe, though she could do very little about it as the tight magical bonds her mother had placed on her restricted her movement maximally. All around, guards were shouting, wondering where Conyeri had gone. Rebecca had seen her sink into the ground, and as silly as it sounded, she knew she was fine. Thredd was the only one they'd recaptured, seeing as immediately after the beam had broken, two members of the crowd had thrown hearthstones at Marisa and VanCleef. Marisa caught hers in her mouth, somehow, she ginned before disappearing. VanCleef hadn't had the dexterity, so he'd used his massive strength to break the metal bonds around his arms and pick in up, giving Varian Wrynn a wink before also disappearing.

Knowing that three of their four potential victims were irrevocably gone, the whole crowd had converged on the gallows, heckling for Thredd to be executed. He had merely sighed when a fresh beam had replaced the broken one. The noose was set around his neck and he was hanged, the entire thing taking a disappointing two minutes. The crowd dissipated, unimpressed, and her mother stood up, irritated that Conyeri had gotten away.

"Rebecca, dear." She eyed her daughter. "We have much to discuss, methinks."

"Not really."

"Darling, I found you in the Stockade, wearing a red bandana. That is a discussion point." Lady Ashcroft wearily stepped into the Gilded Rose, where she gestured to a table. Some maids recognized Rebecca from yesterday and shied away from her. They had tea, which she couldn't drink due to her bonds, and Rebecca remained silent and contemplative through it all. Cefflan, despite vehement protests, had been sent back to the mage tower. "So?"

"So what?"

"Don't play smart with me. I paid for your life, Rebecca. You could have been up there today. Tell me what went on."

"Connor ran away from the Defias after they killed his- her- parents and forced her to join them. She needed to get as far away as possible, because Marisa was tracking her. Marisa is a rogue mage, mother- she siphons magic from whole groups of people at once- and she needed a way to get north. We were going north.

"In the end… Marisa caught up with her. I was in danger, so she took me with her to where she thought she could fight Marisa… but she couldn't. So we ended up porting to the Defias zeppelin… I couldn't get off it, the transporter was broken."

"But why not run when you got down here? Why not send me a message?" Lady Ashcroft regarded her daughter through her steely grey eyes.

"I… I wanted to help Connor."

"So it was that boy!" Lady Ashcroft said louder than she had intended, rage bursting out of her. "You liked him. You fancied him and you followed him to what could have been your deathbed!"

"Mother…"

"And even worse, he is a girl, and even after you knew that, you…" he dabbed a lace handkerchief on her forehead even though it was too cold for sweat. "Rebecca…"

"I can't help it." She shrugged. "I don't see how it matters, anyway… but she likes someone else, anyway. I know."

"Not this Marisa woman?"

"No, a boy. His name is Geylan and he's Master Shaw's runaway son."

Lady Ashcroft sipped her tea in consideration. "I'm trying to think of a punishment."

"I want to go back and find Connor." She said stubbornly. "I know she's alive."

"You will do no such thing. You're coming back to Manor Ashcroft. I'll have you home-schooled in housewifery, and you'll marry a nice gentleman I arrange for you. That is your punishment. I'll not have my daughter show interest in girls…" she trailed off. "For now, at least, I'm too weak to make another portal. I'm rather out of practice. So, we'll stay here. I'll lock you in your room and you'll sleep with those bonds on. And in the morning, I'll make a portal."

"Yes, mother." She said bitterly, allowing herself to be led up the stairs, where she was locked in a smallish room. She was about to start crying when she noticed the roof- it was not boarded for the floor above, which was the attic, but slightly inclined. Walking to the far wall, she looked directly up and saw that there was a gap of about a foot. The floor hadn't been competed; instead the high roof of the four-poster bed supported it.

She considered her bound hands and performed an acrobatic feat that she hadn't thought quite possible, switching her hands from behind her to in front by tucking her legs through them. It hurt and something clicked out, but she managed it and excitedly hoisted herself up, first on the headboard of the four-poster and then on the edge of the boards of the room above, pulling herself up with a mighty shove. She needed to get fitter.

Once there she found the window. It overlooked the rooftops of the trade district, but she opened it to find that the roof of the stable-loft was only about a two metres below. She shimmied out of the window and landed softly.

Rebecca Ashcroft was free.

She climbed off the roof into the stable-loft and stole Darron's winter clothes, considering that the guards had taken her outer layers when she'd entered the Stockade in case she was concealing anything. Saying a quick sorry, she grabbed his bag of provisions and descended down the ladder. She considered whether she should take Horsey or Kestor, and decided on Kestor, because Horsey wouldn't last that long, even though she liked him more.

Swallowing her fear of horses, she saddled Kestor like she had seen Connor do and cautiously got onto its back. Kestor recognized her, it seemed, from the time she had ridden it with Connor what seemed like years ago. She walked out of the Inn then got more confident and trotted out of the city. The guards saw the Ashcroft badge she wore on her cloak, the one useful thing that her mother had insisted she wear when she had taken her out of the Stockade. They didn't notice that her hands were magically tied or that she was wearing groom's clothes.

Free of Stormwind, she went to the only place she could think of: Westfall. All the force that was fighting the Westfall border had returned to Stormwind and had not yet returned, so she had no trouble getting through. Being on her own was an entirely new feeling for Rebecca, but she decided she liked it.

She did, however, fall off her horse when a hidden trapdoor by a signpost opened right in front of her and Conyeri hopped out.

"Oh, hello." Conyeri said, not quite sure of what she was seeing. "Becca."

She got up and launched a ferocious hug onto the poor girl, who winced. Rebecca looked at her neck, which showed signs of her hanging. "Oh, by the Light, Connor…"

"Good going… we need to regroup. I need to find Geylan."

Rebecca kept the hug but looked away, not wanting to let Cony see the hurt to her face. Of course, she needed to find Geylan. Though Rebecca knew it, she couldn't accept that Conyeri was really in love with him. It pained her that she couldn't have what she wanted, and she knew that it was immature, but she was a child, after all. She was used to getting what she wanted. She let Conyeri lead the horse, clinging to her waist as she had the night they'd first met, savouring the time she had with just the two of them.

Rebecca had already come to terms with the fact that she liked a girl. Whether she liked girls in general, she didn't know, but she liked Connor. She didn't know what love was- and she didn't know if that was what she felt, but she was a mere sixteen. She didn't need all this, and she hoped that Connor didn't either, that she wouldn't act on her feelings for Geylan, that their time together would be normal. Rebecca didn't want to play third wheel.

"How are you holding?" Conyeri asked.

"Okay. I feel like a year has passed in two days."

"Mm, same. But we'll be safe, now."

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"My old house, hopefully. There, we can rest… there's a hearth we can use for heating, and nice beds."

Rebecca wanted to see where Connor really came from. She got her wish about half an hour later, when they dismounted next to an abandoned farmhouse. It was small, not meant for a big family. They entered and Conyeri looked around wistfully, probably reminiscing. She'd had happy and sad times here- it suddenly made Rebecca quite homesick, but she smiled and stayed silent as Conyeri got a fire started with a pile of dry wood from the cellar. They sat next to it in relative silence until Rebecca thought to inform her of what had happened after she'd left.

"Marisa and VanCleef got away, but Thredd didn't." she said. "How do you feel about that?"

"Not sure- I don't like Marisa. We were planning to kill her… but after everything that's happened now, I'm not sure. I hope she takes a new path. As for VanCleef, he's a cat. He's already died once and been brought back. They'll never take him down, or the Defias Brotherhood totally, for the same reason."

"So… what do we do now?"

"We wait and we sleep, then we find a way to contact Geylan and Dez and Harrman. And Isobella, if I can. My neck is- excuse the pun- hanging by a thread, and she's a skilled healer."

"Okay. What about after that? Long-term?"

"No idea."

"Honestly?"

"Well, we've got to survive. We have this house, and most of the Defias are locked up or dead. Humans will take a while to repopulate Westfall, and maybe by then, we'll be part of the furniture."

"So you think we should all live here? On your farm?"

"Maybe… but that's optimistic. Shit happens." Conyeri sighed and watched the small fire, her face illuminated soft orange, her hair shining despite being saturated with sewer water. Rebecca could see the bruises on her neck, violently purple and blue, marring her skin. She felt mildly disgusted at herself for thinking what she thought- a deeply-imprinted aversion to anything but the status quo- but she had long accepted that it was inevitable.

"Sleepy-time?" She asked. Conyeri nodded and on cue gave a massive yawn, prompting Rebecca to do the same. "I guess you'll go in your room, I'll take your parents'?"

"No, we'll snuggle down here. It's far too cold for anything else."

"Connor…" Rebecca sighed. "You know I…"

"I know you do, but I'm being sensible. We'll freeze to death otherwise."

"Okay." She waited as Conyeri hauled a mattress and bedcovers down. "I can stop the fire's flames burning stuff, then we could sleep closer to it."

"Do that, then." She set the covers on the mattress, her eyes filled with nostalgia. "It's a bit dusty, but serviceable."

They got under the covers and sadness welled up within Rebecca. The first time she'd actually fallen for someone, they'd turned out to be a girl disguised as a boy running away from the Defias and being pursued by an insane mage with an apocalyptic shard of some scythe that could summon worgen. All in all, she wasn't doing very well, on the run from her mother and the law, now, too, she guessed. She cried a bit, but didn't want to wake Connor, who had fallen deeply asleep as soon as her head had hit the musky pillows.

-

Geylan shivered and jammed another wooly hat on top of his first one, limping out onto the deck of the Defias zeppelin. He wondered where everyone was- there seemed to be only about thirty people on board, all of them in the sick bay. The morning's rain had froze and turned to hail, bouncing off the metal zeppelin in a thunderous drum roll, the weather seemingly punishing the Defias for their failed takeover.

Bitter, Geylan walked around the deserted zeppelin, looking for anyone. He found Cookie and only three other murlocs in the galley, mournful and somber. Isobella was down here, too, snoring, having expending a great deal of energy helping the wounded that had managed to return to the zeppelin before P-P had broken the transporter. Other than the sick bay, the galley was the only place above freezing.

Not chancing to wake her, he returned to the glacial deck, squinting through the growing murk of white and grey. From around the corner came Marisa and VanCleef, looking as though they could use a stint in the sick bay themselves.

"Shaw," Marisa rasped, leaning into his shoulder. "By the gods, where is the sick bay?"

VanCleef then collapsed to the floor with an almighty crash. Geylan watched, confused. Why were they back here? Had the invasion failed? Why were they so incapacitated? Grudgingly he backtracked immediately to the galley and woke Isobella, who jumped to her feet, grabbed her bag and looked like she'd just slept a whole day.

She looked them over carefully. "They were hanged. Their airways have been compromised." She looked suddenly very tired again as she took Marisa's throat gently and forced magic upon it, expanding her bruised throat and then laying her in a sideways position. She moved onto VanCleef and hesitated, not knowing his exact physiology, but performed the same maneuver. Screeching, a goblin wheeled around the corner and stopped her, cursing and inserting a screwdriver into some socket or other and fiddling with some wires.

"He's frozen up." The goblin explained, pulling out a small device that he spoke into. "I need a heat squad up on deck 2, stat."

A huge group of Goblins came and carted him off, shrieking. On Isobella's advice, Geylan picked Marisa up and carried her down into the galley, where Cookie took one look at her and opened up the kitchen doors so that they could lay her in the warmth. Bluish skin was not a good indicator of heath.

"They were executed," Isobella explained. "By hanging. You can tell by the neck bruises… I wonder if Conyeri is okay."

Geylan's stomach lurched. Conyeri, hanged? No, impossible. She wasn't a head Defias; she was only just legal, for god's sake! He glared at Marisa. "Was she?"

"What?" Marisa gasped, inhaling lungfuls of air.

"Was Cony hanged?"

"Yes… but she got away… like me and Ed."

"Where is she then?" He asked furiously. "Is she back on the ship?"

Isobella touched his shoulder. "She's not. She can… go through things. It's to do with her senses, I think… I read something about it. I saw her in training once, finding out… but I didn't think she'd ever be able to pass through solid ground…"

"I bet it was the scythe thing." Geylan muttered, his fists unclenching. "Then where is she?"

"The sewers connect to our tunnels…" Marisa mentioned, sitting up and nursing her head. "She always takes the left path, right?"

"Yes…" Geylan regarded her warily. "So… where would that bring her?"

"I don't… profess to know the tunnels by heart… or what direction she faced to begin with… but it's likely she's found her way into Westfall."

"Then I need to get down into Westfall."

"No, you don't. This is the only place we're safe, now. The transporter is broken." Isobella told him. "I'm not sewing up another of your legs."

"But… I have to find Conyeri."

"Pshh… go ahead. Jump off the zeppelin if it so pleases you." Marisa was back to her old self.

"Make me a portal."

"Me?" Marisa laughed. "Why would I want you to get to Cony?"

"Please." He begged her, eyes sad. "Marisa, you know why we do things better than anyone. You've been to hell and back and spat at the devil. You've had your run. Let me have mine."

"Sentimental crap…" she grimaced but caved in. "Fine, fine. I'll not baby-sit the kids, though."

"I wouldn't let you anyway."

A purple hole in the dimensional fabric popped up in front of a rack of drying fish and Geylan stepped inside. As a last thought, he turned around. "Isobella? Do you want to come with me?"

She shook her head. "There are sick people here. I want to heal them."

"Sure?"

"Maybe I'll see you in the future, Geylan Shaw." She saluted him and smiled. Marisa looked longingly at the portal.

"Marisa?"

"I want to go, but I shouldn't." She sighed and lightly touched the bruising around her neck. In that second, Marisa Du'Paige woke up from what seemed like a very long sleep. She looked sadly at Geylan and shook her head. "I've fucked up her life enough."

Geylan just regarded her, slightly amazed. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. Tell her I'm sorry."

"Oh… okay."

He stepped into the portal, too confused to notice the horrible feeling of being turned inside out. His boots crunched into the layer of snow. Behind him, he took a last look at the kitchen and its occupants before the portal closed, cutting the warmth off. Shivering, he pulled his coat tighter around himself and began hobbling in the direction of Sentinel Hill. The sky was dark and the shadow of the zeppelin loomed over Westfall to the north. Down here, the hail was not quite as bad, but it still jarred his bones and set his teeth chattering.

The lights of Sentinel Hill were dim but on, and though most of the Defias and their associated peoples were dead, in the Stockade or on the zeppelin, some had stayed behind here, including a man he knew of who would tell him if Cony had passed this way.

"Racun," he greeted the thug, who looked up from where he was reading a newspaper, albeit slowly and laboriously, to face Geylan.

"Shaw." He greeted the higher-ranking Defias with an apathetic salute. "You're alive, then."

"Yes." Geylan gestured to his leg. "Pretty much. Have you seen Conyeri?"

"Nah, but Dez is 'ere. Poor lad, 'e's well beat up."

"Will he make it?"

"Touch and go… silly lad, 'e left Stormwind when 'e was nearly dead and rode all the way 'ere." Racun scratched his chin and rolled up his paper. "You want'ta see 'im?"

"Yes." Racun led Geylan into the Inn, which had been converted from Cookie's kitchen to a warm room and dormitory, and several Defias huddled around the stove, warming themselves. In the corner was a mound on a bed that groaned slightly. Geylan rushed up to Dez who saw him through one good eye, the other covered by a patch.

"Shaw…" he smiled through a giant slash down him face that had taken his eye. "I look like a bloody pirate."

"You could look like a furbolg and I'd still be here, Dez." Geylan took his hand and looked at him. Apart from his cut face, he had a deep stomach wound and a nastily burnt lower half. Also, he was missing two fingers. "Harrman will be furious you've lost more fingers than he has."

"Where is Harr?"

"He's trapped in the Stockade, Dez… I'm sorry." Tears leaked out of the sides of Dez's good eyes. "I know he was like a brother to you."

"He'll get out tho', right?" Dez asked, distraught. "The stocks… there's ways outta there."

"Maybe." Geylan chewed on one of his fingernails. "Dez, I'm going to find Cony. She got out… she's in Westfall somewhere. I'm going to check her old house when it gets light."

"I'm not movin' from this bed for a long time, Shaw. I got hit with a shadowbolt… I'm near exhausted, an' there's no medical supplies that can cure it. I dunno if I'll survive the winter."

"Don't say that!" Geylan stood up. "Dez, you're strong! You'll ride it out, and come spring, you'll be skipping around picking daisies."

"Pushing daisies, more like." He brooded, closing his eyes. "I'm tired… Shaw."

"Dez, please…" Geylan begged his friend, an unhealthy shade of light grey. "Not now… sit by the fire, or something. Isobella could heal you if she'd come down with me!" he cursed, shaking Dez's still body. "Please, you were so cheery a minute ago… no more dying, please!"

"Shaw, don'. I'm gone. Maybe… now, maybe tomorrow. I was bein' opet…oper…" He struggled for the word and sobbed when Harrman didn't pitch in with the one he was trying to say. "Wassat word, Shaw?"

"Optimistic." Geylan said very quietly.

"That. I was bein'… that. I'd rather… leave now, with you here, than alone." He opened his good eye a crack. "Please, Shaw?"

"No, Dez! You're not leaving, understand! I won't let you!"

"I'm leaving, Shaw…" he closed his eyes and took in a big breath. "'Member when we was… at camp?"

"Yes. With Jack and Isobella and Conyeri."

"'Member I said… 'bout being resurrected…?"

"We can find someone, Dez. Sometime. You're a good person, really, your soul won't go to hell… or we'll find a druid… but don't die at all, and we won't have to!"

"I 'member whut… I were thinkin', then…" he shuddered as another cold breeze whistled through the little building. "That… I'd like… ter be laid ter rest…"

"Dez, you're not going to die!" Getlan shouted at him, watching his chest rise and fall slower and slower.

"Laid… ter… rest… in Westfall. Not at me… family vault. By that camp… even. Please, Shaw."

"Dez…" Geylan's vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. "Please, don't do this to us all."

"Two thins… ye can't avoid, Shaw. Death… an' paladins."

He smiled, though his heart was breaking, seeing his friend die in front of him. Dez looked at him one last time. "Fer me… will ye… get Harr out?"

"Of course, Dez. Anything."

"Thank… ye… Shaw…" he tightened his grip on Geylan's hand one last time. He smiled one last time. He took in his last breath and said his last words. And with that, Dez died.

-

"As good a friend as we could ever hope to have had," Harrman said, through his sobs. He stood underneath the small, stunted tree that Isobella had once pinned Cony to in a fit of rage, his hands shaking. Around him were four people, all looking at the pile of earth that had been their friend. A small tombstone had been erected, reading:

Dez

Brave in life, Brave in death

Our best friend

"I hope that… I hope…" And Harrman couldn't stop himself any longer. He erupted into a fit of weeping, falling onto his knees at the foot of Dez's grave. "Dez…"

Conyeri watched this through a wall of salty tears herself, her hands clasped behind her back. To her right, Rebecca, to her left Geylan. Jack, who had been Dez's friend before they had even come to know him, was also present. Rebecca was perhaps not as moved as most of them, but then again had less reason to be- but it was, after all, she who had studied night and day to find a way to make a specific portal to Harrman's cell, and she who had got him out, as was his last wish.

Geylan was sobbing beside her, doubly stirred, as he had been present at Dez's death. He had found them, at Cony's house. He hadn't even hugged her, just told her about Dez. They had made the trek back to Sentinel Hill and transported the body themselves. Rebecca had frozen him, as to preserve his body for the coming of spring while she studied to create the portal. It had been two months of silence and mourning for the four of them, going about their daily work with the spirit of Dez hanging over them. The fragment had been silent.

Jack, sensing Harrman's distress, took over in his deep voice, though it was a little shaky. "We hope that he's found peace, wherever it may be."

"Wherever it may be," they echoed him in hollow voices, each feeling a different kind of pain. It was as if their group was now missing something, something they would perhaps never regain. As they stood on that cold February afternoon, joined indefinitely in mourning, all five of the assembled said their own little prayer to their own little god, praying for Dez. They had all loved Dez, unconditionally, and they would still love him, even if he weren't physically present.

There was a silence, then, spanning centuries. They stood until the sun dipped down below the increasingly fertile hills, until the blue sky became a deep blanket of stars, until the wind picked up and the cold chilled them to the bone. Conyeri was the first to speak.

"I think… we should remember what he said… on the top deck of the zeppelin." The others looked at her questioningly. "After Patrick told him about his dad's death, he said something that was beyond me, but now I think I understand it. When my parents died, I tried to mourn them indefinitely. I don't think we should do that for Dez. He said… 'I'd rather honour his memory than mourn his loss. A person's life is better remembered that way'."

"I agree," Harrman wiped his nose and stood up. "Dez, we're going to toast to your life. We're going to bring… you up in conversation, and we're going to remember you and laugh and smile, not… cry and be sombre."

They stayed at his grave for one day and one night, eating bread and water. They told stories about him, lauded his bravery, and revealed funny anecdotes. When it was time to leave, it was Harrman who turned back to the little hillock where he was buried and decided something. "I'm naming this place Dez's Hill."

They murmured in agreement and walked back to the DeHayersae stead, which was back to normal, now that the fields had been weeded and the harvest golems chased away. The house had and extension built on it. Jack was staying there.

From the cellar, Conyeri brought up a keg of beer and they tapped it, pulling six mugs. Dez's mug, they placed in the spare seat around the kitchen table, in memory of him. They played a game of dice, which Dez always won, and Jack even brought out Dez's guitar, and they sung some of his favourite songs, promising that Enides Farlcairn III did not die in vain.

-

In the coming months, little changed. Conyeri put off her choice, instead deciding that she could be a friend to everyone, despite any romantic feelings that the various parties harboured towards each other. The farm was revamped and the spring was mild, letting her plant her crops and begin her life again.

A knock on the front door surprised her. She opened it to find Alt, looking happy. Not half-happy, but actually happy, his metal shiny and smooth. "Alt?"

"They took out my emotional block," he explained. "Miss Du'Paige allowed it. She regained her sanity, you know."

"I'm glad." She let him in, where he sat on one of the crude wooden seats and looked dubiously at the undrunk mug of beer.

"It's for Dez." She explained. "Every time we tap a keg, we pour him a pitcher."

"He must be very drunk, wherever he is." Alt smiled and ran his hands along the table. "Though I'm here on other business."

"Of course." She regarded him and sat down across the table. Geylan and Harrman were out back tending to the wheat. Jack had moved back to wherever he came from long ago and Rebecca- Rebecca was no doubt still sleeping, the lazy girl.

"VanCleef was assassinated," Alt explained. "For real this time, by Patrick Darkleigh… Marisa is the new leader of the Defias, and she's seriously reconsidering what they do."

"She's realigning the Defias?"

"Yes. She wants to use the Westfall land we have to return to farming… not everyone is happy with it. There is a schism."

"I see…" she sighed and propped her elbows up on the table. "She really has changed, eh?"

"Most definitely," he agreed. "It makes me happy that she has found herself."

"I'm happy that you can feel happy… I never really apologized for all those things I said to you, Alt."

"Call me Alteon. Alteon Whisperwalker…" He smiled at her. "I'm going back to Dolanaar, where I come from, to see my sister. The winds have changed. With so much evil going on, good is beginning to catch up… I hope that she can accept me."

"She'd be mad not to," Conyeri said. "So what will happen to the Defias?"

"Those in favour of pacification will come down from the zeppelin and occupy the farmsteads. I suppose that those who do not will continue the original Defias activities, though it will take a great deal of time for them to become as powerful as they once were."

"One big circle, then." She mused, twirling a lock of her hair in her finger. "And then Stormwind will send some people here… Sentinel Hill will become part of the Alliance again… And we will all be forgotten."

"That is how it seems things will play out… or rather, that is how I hope they will."

"Good luck, Alt. Alteon. You deserve it after all the crap you've been through." As an afterthought, she added. "You can be the uncle for my nonexistent children."

"Why nonexistent?" He asked. "Surely you and Master Shaw…"

"No. We all decided together. Sex is overrated. We don't need to marry to spend the rest of our lives together."

"Very wise of you. I wish you the best of fortunes."

"Same."

Alteon Whisperwalker left and never came back. Isobella moved into the farm next door. Marisa never bothered Conyeri again.

I'd like to say they lived happily ever after, but that would be a lie.

-END-